


Tigerlily

by Patience_on_a_Monument



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Asphyxiation, Breath Control Play, Cuckolding, Glove Kink, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Open Relationships, Smut, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patience_on_a_Monument/pseuds/Patience_on_a_Monument
Summary: Yuri looks for some fun away from home while at competition and finds it in the unlikeliest of places.





	Tigerlily

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dannydevito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannydevito/gifts).



> I said I'd do this, like, eight months ago and I guess I'm finally delivering. I have no idea what this is.

"Beka! I'm... ngh!"

Yuri arched off the bed with a cry as he came thick over his hand, chest and the thin hotel sheets. There was a few moments where it was all he could do to lie back with his eyes closed and try and get his breathing back under control while he listened to Otabek getting closer. Rolling over on to his side he watched the screen as Otabek's brows knitted and he came with a low, solid grunt. Otabek recovered faster and quickly dried his hands on the nearby tissues before he pulled himself up from his seated position, tugging his laptop from where it sat perched on the desk a stretch away so he could see the screen more closely. Yuri lamented the loss of distance, as it had given him quite a spectacular view, although Otabek's smug smile with the warm blush across his cheekbones was good too.

"I hope Yakov couldn't hear that," Yuri breathes out. "He's in the room next door, and I bet he'll give me shit if I keep him up another night."

“I’m pretty sure he’d be able to make you out, Yura,” Otabek says with the smirk still catching the side of his mouth. “You’re not particularly subtle, and he’s known about us for months. Not that being loud is a bad thing, it just means I’m doing my job right.”

“And what does that say about me if the most I get is a grunt?” snips Yuri, but the amusement at the back of his throat is winning out. “Try harder,” came the predictable response as Otabek barks out a laugh.

“Oh I’ll try harder, and you’ll get harder. I’m not going to lose this one,” Yuri growls out. He shifts to move into a more comfortable position and lets his face relax into a calm smile as he swallows around the mass of affection rising up in his throat.

This is a part of their pattern now, ever since Otabek had officially given him the offer of being his boyfriend a few months ago, as starkly given as his offer of friendship. They didn’t see each other often enough, even if Otabek could occasionally relocate himself and his coach to train at the St Petersburg for a week’s training - amidst much grumbling from Yakov about rink time and much excitable cheering and ribbing from Yuri’s rinkmates. They could all suck it though. In between the weekends away and temporary transfers they had Skype and messaging and were all in all very rarely out of contact with other.

It was normally enough, but not always, especially at times like now with Skate America just around the corner and nerves combining together with teenage hormones and competitive spirit to set Yuri on edge. They had arrangements for these situations and Yuri rummaged around for the nerve to bring it up in the comfortable haze of afterglow and the words would come easier. They’d both done it before, but asking permission was part of the agreement and Yuri always caught on the initial question. Luckily Otabek caught onto the pull of his eyebrows and settled in to wait for Yuri to speak up.

“So,” he started lamely, averting his eyes to run a finger across a crease on the sheet and mentally kicked himself.

“You have someone in mind for a round two?” Otabek comes in with - Yuri’s gaze snaps back to the screen where his boyfriend is still smiling at him and it’s all he can do to grin back. 

“Am I that obvious? I was going to talk to Lee actually.” He can see Otabek quirk an eyebrow at this but that just goads him on. “I’ve been told in the past I have a tendency towards the tall, dark and brooding type,” Yuri snarks, but then his voice softens. “He reminds me of you a bit.”

“Well, I can hardly argue if you put it like that. And I don’t have to see him at NHK.” There’s a moment of silence, but the eyes on the screen are warm. “I’ll just have to remind you of the superior tall, dark and brooding skater in your life when I see you next.”

Yuri can only knock back his head with a laugh at this. “You have nothing to fear, I’m not sure Lee actually experiences emotions beyond irritation and disdain. That and your ass is still way better.”

“Well then I can only wish you luck with the seduction. It sounds like it will be a wild ride,” Otabek says calmly, but there is a smoulder in his eyes that is difficult to ignore.

“I’m hoping it will be.”

Yuri ditches the old man after they’ve done all the necessary check in paperwork at the hotel and rink, and finds Lee in the lobby of their shared hotel, just leaving the attached restaurant (which is to be expected as the most parsimonious solution).

“Hey, Seung-gil,” Yuri says loud enough to grab his attention as he gets close, trying to go for casual. He gets a cool look, and – a snort? Yuri straightens his spine a little and tries not to let the brush-off sink in too far. He was always a sucker for a challenge.

“I have a proposition for you, it should be good for both of us if you’re up to it,” comes the second salvo. This gets a little more of a response when Lee slows down and turns to face Yuri fully.

“Go on.” That’s all he gets. What the fuck is this? Lee at least manages to scrounge up the care to carefully raise an eyebrow at him, but Yuri isn’t about to let it throw him off.

“You and I are both getting screwed by jetlag, I’ll bet, but we’re both here a couple of days ahead of the competition, and the other competition - how do you feel about wearing each other out?” He tips his head with his best predatory grin, counting down until they’re twisted round each other in the-

“I’m not going to the rink today. And neither would you if you took this seriously. It’s bad practice after such a long flight.”

Yuri can’t help himself when his mouth drops open. What a braindead loser, he’s lucky he’s a pretty face. 

“No, you… no. I mean, if we’re both getting fucked by the time difference why not fuck each other to exhaustion and reset the difference?” 

His momentum has certainly taken a hit and he was hoping to get through his rationale with no questions asked, but he’s taken the plunge and he sure as shit isn’t going to back down now.

“I have no interest,” Lee replies, quick as lightning. Fuck. “Your logic is interesting but nothing that either a light workout or time for… personal attention would not settle, and I have zero interest in involving myself into whatever interpersonal politics are currently ongoing between you and your Kazakh. Don’t look surprised, Plisetsky, you two are… a very open secret.”

Yuri snaps his jaw shut with a clack that echoes in his head long after. He’s busted wide open already, and not at all like he had hoped. Lee is looking him over appraisingly, which only makes the embers in Yuri’s gut burn brighter.

“We have an agreement and he is just as fine with it as I am, if you have to know,” Yuri says, skin prickling. “I’m not the sort of scum that would go behind his back on something like this.”

At this Lee’s gaze turns from quietly critical to slightly more appreciative, if Yuri had to put money on it, but he’s such a taciturn asshole it’s difficult to really pin down. 

“Regardless, I wish to remain separate. Your concern is unwarranted, Plisetsky, if that is what it is, I have my own methods of combating jetlag and would advise you to find your own that do not rely on such disruptive approaches. Good luck in the competition.”

And with that he turns on his heel and boards the open elevator, leaving Yuri watching after his retreating form in a mix of righteous indignation and awe at his balls. This is going to rankle, and deep, and never let it be said that Yuri Plisetsky isn’t a petty motherfucker when he wants to be.

And that he didn’t love some good competition. It looks like the challenge just presented itself.  


  


  


  
The challenge doesn’t manifest itself at the competition, where Yuri makes mincemeat out of the other skaters. With Otabek not at this cup, and the pig and his herder retired, more and more of these lacked any punch to get his blood flowing (JJ is trash, and Yuri will not accept any insinuation that he is worth considering. The bronze he took here is already far too good for him).

Lee finds him as the perfunctory celebrations are all beginning to wind down and Yuri is on his way back to his room, dead on his feet. Typical, that after days of avoiding him or ignoring him, once it’s all over he finally shows up. 

“Plisetsky!” he croons – wait, croons? Yuri spins in the hallway to face him and is immediately facing off against the too-close face of Lee, who seems to be having trouble focusing on Yuri’s face despite the distance. Yuri almost has time to wonder about his quality of sight when he is violently assaulted by a cloud of liquor fumes when Lee breathes in his face a surprised, “there you are!”

“What do you want, Lee?” Yuri bites out, angry at Lee for being weak and at himself for being easily influenced enough to get angry. Maybe he should have drunk some at the party to better roll with this new development, but he has seen first-hand at Sochi the sort of humiliation and idiocy public drunkenness can bring on and has no intention of following suit, thank you.

Lee trembles in his legs, reaches for the wall. Yuri never moves a muscle to catch him, only relaxes his stance and waits for what he knows will follow. 

“Hey, Plisetsky?” Lee says, the words sticking to the back of his throat.

“Yeah?” He hopes to God that Lee can get what he wants to out soon and they can get on with the farce.

“You said, before. Let’s do it. I won’t lose to you in this.”

“You mean you want to fuck now?”

Lee sways, then steadies, concentrating all that he can on Yuri’s nose – so hard it looks as though his eyes will cross, then leans forward to lick at Yuri’s nose. Yuri suppresses a punch and a snort at the same time, moving all his weight to one leg and burying his fists deep in his team jacket.

“Yesss. Do you?”

Yuri blinks. Then takes a half-step back. He may have fucked around with him for the last few days but Seung-gil Lee is still an attractive prospect, if he can get it up in this drunk state. 

“I guess. Your room or mine?”  


  


  


  
Their trip along the hallway and up to Lee’s room is not full of stolen kisses, laughter shared or fleeting touches but is instead more of a silent march, every so often stopping to wait for Lee to re-calibrate before they can continue. Lee is not as far gone as Yuri had initially believed, small mercies, and can both remember his room number and the location of his card, and they get to his room incident-free. 

Yuri drops himself down spread-eagled on the bed and allows himself a second to relax as Lee goes to the bathroom, Yuri listening absently to water hitting the bottom of a glass and humming through a song that refused to leave his head after Beka’s most recent set.

When Lee re-emerges, he looks drastically more put together, much to Yuri’s surprise, and even more surprisingly he still seems willing to go ahead with their deal. He gives a curt nod to Yuri as he lies waiting then makes a beeline to his suitcase, rummaging around for a second before throwing a small plastic bottle onto the covers. 

“Ready yourself”, Lee says, voice authoritative and brooking no objection. “I don’t want to dirty my gloves.”

Yuri stays frozen, spread out and trying to keep his breathing even through the shock and anticipation. He can only hope this is going to go well. Fuck, maybe this wasn’t his best plan but if it works... 

“Well?” Lee chides, fingers fumbling with his tie in a corner and meticulously laying them out over a chair even as he moves slightly in place. Yuri levers himself up and begins stripping, becoming incredibly aware that Lee is not the type to enjoy a show. He is naked and easing a second lubed-up finger into himself by the time Lee has finished arranging his clothes and turns back to him. 

He is unmistakeably a beautiful man, muscles toned and stronger than Yuri’s even after his growth spurt and skin flawless against his dark hair, trailing to a cock that is thin and long, and curves slightly to the right as Lee strokes himself hard. Yuri tries not to stare but fails, squeezing a third finger inside a little too quickly in his haste, hissing through the stretch to bounce a little as he drags his eyes up to meet dark ones narrowed in contemplation before snapping back to a detail he had previously missed.

“You’re going to keep the gloves on?” Yuri scoffs, only to be immediately quieted by the glare he receives in return.

“Do not mock me wanting to keep some distance between us, Plisetsky, even in this.” Ever stoic and commanding, even as the blush deepens on his face and he tries to manoeuvre the condom in line with himself.

God damn it, it goes straight to Yuri’s dick. 

He rocks up onto his knees a little further, bounces as little deeper, wanting and waiting for Lee’s teasing game to be over. Fucker probably doesn’t even know he’s teasing.

“Any time, you know,” he growls deep in the back of his throat, and then Lee is on him, pushing his chest down so he lies against the bed again and pulling his knees free and to the side to give him better access as he positions himself. Yuri takes a moment to breathe before wiping his slick hand on the sheets, uncaring, before gripping on by his head in preparation. 

“And they say romance is dead.”

The lack of foreplay would be insulting if it wasn’t Seung-gil fucking Lee, master of the blunt.

He’s still trying to figure out if he should be offended at all when he first feels the head of Lee’s cock nudge against his asshole. There’s a hand against his thigh as he is breached, and he focuses on the smoothness of the leather as he fills up. The seam on the glove’s thumb flicks over his skin when hips meet his ass and he takes a shuddery breath. 

The pace starts slow but is soon industrial in the smoothness of thrusts and the power of the movements. Lee is keeping up his stoic persona, although the alcohol is painting a pretty blush across his nose that deepens with his movements. While there are echoes of Beka in his bearing, the completely opposite coldness in his eyes eggs Yuri on with their differences, as it drives home his cuckoldry. He feels Beka in the strength of the hands that push his hands flat, and Lee in the frustrated grunts and dismissive glances away when they lock eyes. The illicitness thrums through him, makes him grab onto the sheets behind his head, makes him lift his hips from the sheets. The motion in and out never slows, only getting more intense as Lee increases his tempo and leans further over. 

“Didn’t think -ah! Didn’t think you had it in you with those clown costumes you… you go on the ice with” Yuri says, keeping his smirk wide as he watches the face above him, wondering if he could tease some emotion free. 

“Hmph,” is as much of an emotion as he gets in return. “I don’t need you to talk.” 

The sentiment is echoed in the way that he makes no attempt to find Yuri’s prostate at all – intent only on his own pleasure. Yuri is a fuck toy and he loves it as the thrusts become harder and he shifts on the sheets, scrabbling with his heels to find better purchase and gasping when it makes Lee hit deeper, his skin prickling and breathing loud in the silence of the room. 

Lee seems to be coping well with the pace he has set himself, but pauses for a second still balls-deep in Yuri as he pushes his hair out of his eyes, clumped with sweat, and slicks it back before continuing his relentless assault. So, he is human.

“Is your ticker going to make it, old man?” Yuri barks, knowing he’s a dick but too intrigued now to back out. Lee’s impressive eyebrows knit themselves together as he readjusts his fist on the bed. “Don’t push yourself too hard if you want to live long enough for a gold at finals.”

That seems to have been the switch, and Lee’s face hardens from placid concentration into a scowl, moving his right hand so the gloved thumb pushes down on Yuri’s tongue to silence him.

“You have a vulgar mouth, Plisetsky. I think it would be better if you were silent from now on.”

Yuri feels the thrill of victory, the smug self-satisfaction of the top of the podium, and takes great pleasure in wrapping his lips around the digit in his mouth, delighting in the taste of the hide as he sucks and releases with a lewd ‘pop’.

Lee’s scowl deepens further into disgust and he removes his hand with a sharp flick of his wrist, brushing along Yuri’s palate as he does so, bringing Yuri even closer.

The hand finds a home on the hollow of Yuri’s throat, and he sucks in a breath when he feels a slight pressure. 

“I’m warning you, Plisetsky,” Lee says, but the words are distant to the feeling of the hands on his throat and his pulling off the bed in a vain effort to get more pressure from that hand. Shit, it was so close to what he needed, the last piece of the puzzle as Lee hits deep but not home, and keeps the pressure on his throat so fucking light.

“Please,” is all he can get out in his frustration, barely a hiss but he can see the disgust morph to surprise on Lee’s face and he knows the point got across when the pressure finally increases. 

He tries to verbalise a thank you but it is lost in his throat Lee’s hand closes – enough to breathe still but enough that Yuri could feel his blood flow diminishing and his head becoming light. He settles for bringing a hand to his cock, finally, the stimulation overflowing as his skin began to burn with oversensitivity. The touch to his head was incredible, pins and needles of pleasure even as his fingers weakened and he squirmed on Lee’s cock, and when he runs his fingertips down the side of his shaft to take himself in hand it’s too much. 

Lee finally settles into what is happening and applies himself with renewed vigour. He watches Yuri’s face like a hawk. careful to keep his grip loose enough to not be cruel but maintain his hold as he thrusts as hard as he can into Yuri, who feels the drag on his asshole in meticulous detail as his body screams from the lack of air, relishing in the heightened awareness of his nerves. 

Lee finally changes his angle and finds Yuri’s prostate and Yuri feels the world shift underneath him. It only takes a couple of hits and a few strokes before he comes, hard; earth-shattering, reality-breaking hard waves of orgasms breaking over him and he is powerless against them, giving himself up to the shaking climaxes that wrack and ruin him. He vaguely acknowledges Lee stammering out his orgasm above him and the hand around his throat retreating, but he cannot bring himself to care.

He bathes luxuriously in the afterglow for what feels like hours, until he blanks out into sleep. He blinks awake a short time later as Lee bounces onto the bed, seemingly having cleaned up despite his intoxication and finally ready to sleep. Yuri rouses fast and sits up to start grabbing on his clothes from where they lie beside the bed. 

He pauses for a second before he finally gets up to leave. Normally he walks out easy, fuck ‘em, but then normally things don’t get quite so intense and it’s left him on edge. 

“So, thanks for the distraction, Lee. I’ll see you around.” He cringes into himself at how stupid and lame he sounds, and aches to leave like he should have at the beginning. 

“It was not without worth,” Lee says back to him, eyes warming with what could pass for affection for a second as he reaches out and ruffles Yuri’s hair before falling back on the covers, immediately asleep.

Yuri can’t move for a second while he considers the recent happenings, then bolts from the room as fast as he can before he can start overthinking. He will not consider the meaning of strangely affectionate drunk Seung-gil Lee and he could not be anywhere near when the sober one woke up.

The next day a still-smarting gold medallist hobbled out of the Arrivals gate in Moscow to be immediately gathered into the arms of his waiting boyfriend. Yuri leant down slightly to give Otabek a long, lingering kiss as he re-accustomed himself to the feel of those arms, the smell of that cologne, then whispered to his ear;

“I’ve missed you, Beka. And I have some new things for us to try when we get back home.”


End file.
